


Pavlovian Erections (and Other Strange and Wonderful Truths of Being in Love)

by GretaOto



Series: Strange and Wonderful Truths [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Erections, Fights, Fluff, Forgiveness, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Relationship Issues, but no sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaOto/pseuds/GretaOto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationships are hard. Sometimes, so are cocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pavlovian Erections (and Other Strange and Wonderful Truths of Being in Love)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be funny. I'm not sure what happened.

Eames is lying on his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling, replaying over and over the harsh words Arthur and he had flung at each other.

The fight hadn’t started over anything important. Whose turn it was to wash the dishes, maybe. Or who forgot to pick up milk at the grocery store. But somehow it had become laced with all the insecurities of a new relationship and had taken on a life of its own. Arthur had been cold and cutting, venomous words flying like shrapnel. Eames had been no better, using all his skills at reading people to pick apart Arthur’s deepest fears, flinging them back in his face, mocking and accusing all rolled into one.

Finally, Arthur had just walked out. Shut his mouth, turned on his heel, and walked out the door.

The noiseless click of the latch was more damning than any slam of a door could be.

Eames is still lying there, awake in the quiet room, when he hears the bedroom door creak open. In the silence he can hear the susurration of wool and silk as Arthur methodically strips out of his suit. 

It is a sad kind of silence.

Eames feels the mattress dip as Arthur carefully crawls under the covers, positioning himself on the furthest edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to stay so far away.”

The murmured words are a peace offering, an apology. Bread cast upon the waters.

Arthur rolls violently over, burying his face in Eames’ broad shoulder, one arm twining around his waist, slender leg slotting neatly between sturdy thighs. He is shaking, with cold or fear or anger. Eames can’t tell.

And then Arthur draws his hand back, fingers brushing tentatively over Eames’ substantially erect cock.

Eames can feel Arthur’s face tilt up. He imagines the bemused and quizzical expression that accompanies the movement.

“Yes, I’m erect. Yes, I’m still mad at you. No, I can’t help it. It’s purely a Pavlovian reaction.”

Arthur’s breath hitches in a silent chuckle, warm against Eames’ chest.

“Pavlovian? You mean…?” He trails off.

Eames stares at the ceiling.

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean. You have trained my body that bed equals Arthur equals truly fantastic sex. So now I get hard every time I lie down.”

Arthur’s hand is now exploring gently up and down his side. His forearm occasionally brushes against the head of Eames’ cock through the thin fabric of his pants. It is teasing, distracting, infuriating.

Eames doesn’t want him to stop.

“It’s starting to interfere with our work, actually. I have to be careful where and how I practice with the PASIV. I can’t get too comfortable, otherwise my libido completely takes over my subconscious.”

He lets the words flow out softly, not thinking hard, just hoping that he can hold this moment, this ceasefire, for as long as possible. 

“And as lovely as it is when all my projections turn into you in various stages of undress, it’s bloody distracting. Although…” His voice turns mischievous. Arthur’s hand pauses in its exploration of the soft skin at the crease of Eames’ groin. “I did learn that an orgasm is just as effective as – and infinitely more pleasant than – a bullet to kick oneself out of a dream. Not that I would recommend that during a job. I woke up with sticky pants and the disappointment of being cheated out of the best part.”

Arthur’s answering laugh is a little more solid, a little less shaky.

“Oh? And what exactly were you cheated out of?”

Eames reaches down to grab Arthur’s wandering hand, pulling it to his lips and gently kissing his knuckles.

“My favorite part, of course. You. Making you as happy as you make me.”

Arthur is silent for a long time.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet Eames almost misses them. He is too wrapped up in the welcome warmth of Arthur, a heat he had thought for many long, dark moments that he might never feel again.

“I’m sorry too, darling,” he murmurs into Arthur’s hair, pulling him closer, fingers coming up to trace the wings of Arthur’s shoulder blades. “I should never have said the things I did.”

“You’re not a feckless, self-centered lothario with terrible judgment and even worse taste in clothing.” Arthur’s voice is muffled by Eames’ chest.

“And you’re not a soulless, emotionless automaton who rejects all chances at love because love is illogical,” Eames replies, soothing.

"You may be a con-man and a thief by trade, but you are the most reliable, trustworthy, and intelligent man I know. And, secretly, I love your clothes, every last ridiculous one.” Arthur’s confession is breathtaking in its sincerity and raw honesty.

Eames considers the easy answer, promising a plethora of garish ties from now to eternity, an endless stream of vintage suits and thrift-store finds. But in this moment, only the deepest truths will do. 

“You lash out offensively because you are so, so very vulnerable. Once you let someone close, it takes very little for them to injure you. And that terrifies you. I know this, and I still crushed you at the first opportunity. I am truly sorry, darling. I don’t deserve someone as incredible as you.”

It is unclear who makes the first move. It doesn’t matter.

Their lips meet, gentle and full of promise. 

Full of forgiveness.

“I love you.”


End file.
